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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22708183">comme ça</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ammunitionist/pseuds/ammunitionist'>ammunitionist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>1917 (Movie 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, M/M, Mild Religious Imagery, Morning Sex, Post-Canon, literally this is so soft whats wrong with me</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 13:23:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>965</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22708183</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ammunitionist/pseuds/ammunitionist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>the sun pours over him like honeyed grace. <br/>will has never loved tom more.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tom Blake &amp; William Schofield, Tom Blake/William Schofield</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>156</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>comme ça</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sound is what consumes him.</p>
<p>When one thinks of skin against skin, the thought defaults to touch. A smooth, gentle brush, a comforting texture intrinsic to comfort.</p>
<p>If it’s a loved one, perhaps scent also comes to mind. Familiar olfactory cues of intimacy, cues of safety. Some amalgamate of soap, spices, soul and stone made up the smell of a human being, the smell of love. It changes for everyone, and yet the idea of these scents are so universal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Will can only think about the sound.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s possibly- quite likely, in fact- because there are no other sounds he can hear. Late Sunday mornings in their apartment are quiet, churches still in Mass and the two of them electing to sleep in. If they were to lay totally still, the silence would be perfect.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom’s skin slides against his slowly, leisurely, lovingly, drawing an indescribable sound from Will’s lips. The delicate noise is crisp, soft, subtle, and it makes warmth spill out from Will’s sternum.</p>
<p>
  <em>Bliss.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His lover is sitting at the joint of his hips, Will’s legs spread lazily up, over and around Tom’s thighs. He’s silhouetted by the golden eminence of the sun, a blazing halo, Midas- born and seraphic. Tom’s brown hair is shined through by the light, making it seem as though his halo was truly hidden just beyond the brown curls.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You look amazing like this.” he breathes, inhaling ever so slightly at the short chuckle that slips from Tom’s mouth.</p>
<p>“If I didn’t already love you I would now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom elects not to respond. At least, not with words.</p>
<p>Strong hands stroke the pale flesh of Will’s inner thighs, thumbs pressing into the muscle barely concealed by mostly-perfect skin. Legs spreading ever so slightly further, Will’s body shifts against the mattress, the sound of the sheets in his ear momentarily consuming. It feels incredible. No massive pleasure has overtaken him, but the feeling of being <em>here,</em> fully bare, touched by a lover so sensually he can barely take it; swallows him.</p>
<p>A soft <em>oh </em>slips between Will’s lips as Tom’s thumb reaches the junction between his thigh and groin. The pressure against his tendon leaches heat into his blood, feeling it take up residence in his chest and stomach, already seething with reverent anticipation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom is rarely this quiet. Will wonders absently why, he must be thinking about something, but it doesn’t quite matter as soon as the younger man touches his cock.</p>
<p>His hands are warm, thick, and agonizingly light against him. Will would call it cruel if he thought Tom capable of such things, but alas- despite all of his efforts- Will has yet to find a single malicious bone in his lover’s body.</p>
<p>A soft hum slips from Will’s body unwittingly, simultaneous adoration and impatience. It wasn’t that he wanted to rush him, there were Sundays when this was all they did, but this time it felt like Tom was <em>teasing.</em></p>
<p>“God, you’re insufferable.” Will sighs, faux frustration, his breath catching in his throat when Tom’s thumb brushes the underside of his cock.</p>
<p>“Someone ought to give you a good…” he trails off, breathing heavily as Tom’s hand slides up his side, bringing the lovers to a near parallel at the same time.</p>
<p>“… stern talking to.” he finishes, grabbing Tom’s hip with one hand and pulling him down to meet their bodies. Tom shudders out a breath, grinning playfully down at Will.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then talk to me.” Tom grins, his first sentence of the morning. Will raises an eyebrow, debates saying <em>so it speaks?</em> and instead elects to kiss him.</p>
<p>Soft would be the wrong word, but so would harsh. It's… certain, made so by years of kissing him, and the sheer amount of <em>love </em>Will can feel through the contact staggers him. Each time, no matter the season, it's <em>staggering.  </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tom's hips flex against his, sending sparks through the rest of his body. Will breaks the kiss to moan, caught off guard by the sudden stimulation. It's still cheeky, he can fucking <em>feel </em>Tom's grin against his neck, but it's <em>so </em>good.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For the next few minutes, Tom elects to do just that. His hands roam Will's body, electrifying, subtle. Will doesn't mind relinquishing control, his own hands alternating between Tom's hair and ass. He can hear himself from a distance, breath hitched by wanton moans and sharp inhales, but they don't matter.</p>
<p>The only thing that matters is the warmth of Tom's skin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Time blurs, but not in a concussed haze like the nightmare they both had survived. It blurs like the edges of an oil painting, soft and beautiful, artistic in a way that Will would never imagine he'd see. Tom is so gorgeous, breath heavy on his neck, and it feels like heaven.</p>
<p>
  <em>Feels like heaven.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It's mid-afternoon by the time they finally untangle themselves, elated and slightly damp.</p>
<p>It feels like all of eternity and mere seconds had passed in the space of that morning, time negligent to the two of them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Will watches Tom stand slowly, stretch, and amble to the bathroom, his skin still bathed golden by the sunlight. His heart jumps in his chest as Tom turns the water on, turning back and asking, faux-innocent,</p>
<p>"You coming?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Will nods immediately, a soft smile breaking his features. He slides to his feet and also stretches, mirroring Tom's movement.</p>
<p>Coming up behind his lover, Will kisses the nape of his neck, feeling him shudder. The light is golden, steam is wafting from the bath, and Tom is enough to keep him warm for the rest of his life.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Will leans forward and kisses a bruising mark on Tom's collarbone, smiling against the skin.</p>
<p><br/>"What're you so smug for?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh, nothing."</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>A fool in love is a fool twice over.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading! i'm not used to writing non-angst, so i hope it's not too unreadable.<br/>comments are always appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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